The Truth

Be not so pure man
Be not so sure man
You’ve been here for long enough to know
Be not so old man
And be not so cold man
Cause the winter’s coming and you ought to know
There is no ocean
Big enough to hold it down
No there ain’t enough warmth dear
In this cold forsaken town
I’ve been getting to leaving
Don’t you know that I love you most
I just need a little mystery
Like the misty Oregon coast
Be not so love all
Be not so trouble
You’ve been here for long enough to know
The sun also sets
So we’re bringing in the bets
And the winner’s coming but the running’s slow
For all the places that I can’t recall by name
And all the faces that have taken too much blame
I’ve been getting to leaving
I’ve been aching for holy smoke
I just need a little mystery
Like the misty Oregon coast
It is a wonder the buildings fear of death can raise
It is a wonder the fools fear of death can praise
I’ve been getting to leaving
I’ve been aching for holy smoke
I just need a little mystery
Like the misty Oregon coast